


The Call of the Sea

by robbertree



Category: Glory (1989)
Genre: American Civil War, American History, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gen, Gore, Historical, Historical References, Mild Gore, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robbertree/pseuds/robbertree
Summary: Shaw dies on the parapet of Fort Wagner. It's an ugly death for an ugly war.





	The Call of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Be wary of gore in this one. This fic is shorter than usual, but I felt it was more fitting.

There was a shout on his lips when he died. Robert Gould Shaw urged his men forward, the throng of soldiers clothed in blue thundering across the beach. Distance turned brave soldiers into a swarming mass of insects. Shouts and screams tore raggedly from throats, punctuating the crash of the waves. The swell of the tide threatened to tear away any soldier that strayed too far. They had to be quick.

The crack of artillery was deafening. The 54th Massachusetts surged forward, men struck and killed by the dozens. They clutched at their open wounds, minié ball rounds tearing wide holes through heads and abdomens. There was almost always an exit wound. Though they had long since broken ranks, not one of them refused to flee - throwing themselves into death's arms.

The bodies piled up quickly at the base of the parapet, stacked by four or five at a time. The wounded writhed about, unsure of what to do. A young man clutched a piece of his friend's skull. His face was covered in blood, flesh, and gray matter. His friend lay a mere inches away, head and face strewn about in fragments along the beach. Bodies floated listlessly in the moat, bobbing gently with the waves.

Their legs were burning. The men kicked up mounds of coarse sand as they pushed themselves up the 30-foot parapet, uniforms heavy and wet. The sun had sunken low in the sky, but the heat was upon them.

Shaw crested the parapet first. His knuckles were white as he clutched his sword. His eyes were wild. The wind threatened to push him back as he leaned into a particularly harsh gust. He belted out an order over the chaos.

"Forward 54th!"

The color bearer went down first. His body was heavy as he collapsed with a dull _thump_. Blood seeped from a large empty space in his head, eye rolling from the obliterated socket. His brain was still pulsing grotesquely.

You can always hear the bullets that hit you, they say. That you'll even hear it over the roar of the ocean and the deafening sounds of cannon fire. It seemed impossible the more you thought about it, all things considered.

But Robert Gould Shaw still heard the sharp _crack_ of an Enfield rifle. It was less than a second before the round fragmented in his chest, small hunks of lead tearing through organs and tissue. His heart was torn to shreds by the hot metal, each splintered piece burrowing through soft flesh and pale bone. His ribs separated from his spinal cord, lungs collapsing in on themselves. He was dead before he hit the ground, sword clattering sharply inside of the fort. Bits of sand were still stuck to the hem of his uniform, his blood thick and red and _slimy_. His soft blonde hair fanned out around him, his kepi having flown away long before.

The order was still on his lips as he died. A pair of rough hands grabbed the regimental colors, the two flags unfurling with the wind. The ocean's cool spittle rested lightly on dying flesh. His men threw themselves bravely onwards, his blue eyes staring blankly into the night.

No man dared to look back.

* * *

 

**Please feel free to leave a review!**


End file.
